


Not Ever

by rsadelle



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-17
Updated: 2009-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's hanging out waiting for a call to tell him when and where he needs to be next when this guy comes in. Jeans and t-shirt that're too loose, cowboy boots, and about two tons of attitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Ever

Steve's hanging out waiting for a call to tell him when and where he needs to be next when this guy comes in. Jeans and t-shirt that're too loose, cowboy boots, and about two tons of attitude.

"Chris," The guy introduces himself. "I used to have your job."

"Yeah? I'm Steve." Steve shakes the guy's hand. He's got a good handshake, firm but not too much.

"You got a break comin' up?" Chris asks. And sure, what the hell? Steve's about ready for a smoke. He starts for the front door, but Chris waves him back. "Lemme show you something." Chris takes him out the back door and around the corner of the building where there's a weird little alcove between it and the place next door.

"Out of view of the security cameras," Chris explains. "And no one ever comes over this way."

"Good to know." Steve pulls his cigarettes and a lighter out of a pocket. "Cigarette?" Chris is showing him a nice thing to know; the least he can do in return is offer the guy a cigarette.

"Naw. I don't smoke."

Steve shrugs. "Suit yourself." He puts the pack back in his pocket and lights the cigarette he's taken out.

"I'll suck you off, though," Chris offers.

Steve chokes on smoke the way he hasn't since his first cigarette. "Uh, yeah, okay," he says when he gets some of his ability to breathe back. Chris is hot, and no sane man would turn down a blowjob.

Chris drops to his knees right there, and that's all it takes for Steve to get fully hard, zero to sixty in nothing flat.

"Just keep your cigarette away from my hair," Chris says as he unbuttons and unzips Steve's jeans.

Steve's careful to keep the hand with the cigarette up and away. He uses the other hand to cup the back of Chris's head, not that he really needs to guide or encourage; Chris is a fucking master at this. He sucks hard, uses his tongue in all the right places, and rolls Steve's balls in his hand. Steve's cigarette's barely burnt down at all before he's choking out a warning and letting go so Chris can move away. If anything, Chris presses closer to him, and Steve comes into his mouth. The last shocks of his orgasm are still shuddering through him when Chris slides up his body and feeds him back his own come on a kiss. Steve swallows clumsily and licks into Chris's mouth until he can't breathe anymore.

"Do you want?" he asks, sliding his free hand down to where Chris's hard cock is pressing against him.

Chris's eyes fall halfway shut, and his agreeing murmur comes out low like a moan. He turns against Steve and settles his back against Steve's chest.

"Like this," he says, his voice low and rough. He takes Steve's free hand in his and together they stroke his cock, Chris showing him just how hard and how fast to work him, and which spots to twist his fingers across. Chris must like sucking cock because it doesn't take long until he's coming, spilling over their hands and onto the pavement below them. Chris brings their joined hands up to his mouth and licks them clean. Steve shifts to the side while he does it, just enough so he can get the end of his cigarette before it burns down to nothing.

"Had an ex," Chris tells him while he zips them both up, "liked to smoke during. Said it saved time."

Steve holds up his cigarette. "Can't deny it's convenient." He takes the last puff off of it and stubs it out in the coffee can of sand someone's left there. It maybe calls into question Chris's assertion that no one ever comes here, but maybe he left it here or things have changed since he quit.

They stop in the bathroom to wash their hands, and Steve watches Chris's bent head in the mirror. It's not like it's the first time he's had sex with someone he just met, but it's the first time at work, and possibly the first time since he left his teens that he's gotten off so fast.

"I'm having a Cinco de Mayo party this weekend," Steve says when they get back to his phone. "You should come." He writes his address and the date on a piece of paper and tears it off his scratch pad.

Chris looks down at Steve's scrawl and shoves the piece of paper in his pocket. "Yeah, I'll see if I can make it."

***

Steve keeps an eye out for Chris in between adding Coronas to the ice chests and serving up bowls of chili. After a few hours, though, the party's in full swing and Steve figures Chris isn't coming. It's too bad; he gave a good blowjob and Steve wouldn't mind the chance to return the favor. Chris's cock had been thick and warm in his hand, and Steve would be lying if he said he hasn't jerked off while imagining what it would feel like on his tongue.

The party winds down around midnight until there are only a few people left. Jason and Kyle go to get their guitars out of their cars, and everyone moves upstairs to the extra bedroom that Steve's turned into a music room. They're trading riffs and playing covers when the doorbell rings.

"Too late for the cops," Frank, Steve's roommate, says.

"I'll get it." Steve hands off his guitar to Scott and goes downstairs to answer the door.

Chris is standing on the porch, looking perfectly relaxed. "Hey, man." He holds up a bottle of Cuervo. "Happy Cinco de Mayo."

"Thanks," he says. "Come on in."

"Where is everybody?" Chris asks as he comes in and follows Steve to the kitchen.

"Upstairs. It's pretty late." Steve gathers up half a dozen shot glasses, the salt shaker, and the bowl of lime slices. "You want some chili or a beer?"

"Chili sounds great." Chris leans against the counter while Steve dishes him up a bowl.

"Cheese and onions are in the fridge."

Chris gets them out and adds some of each to his bowl before putting them both back.

Between the two of them, they get the tequila and accoutrements as well as Chris's bowl of chili and a spoon up the stairs. Steve introduces Chris around and passes out shot glasses.

Frank's the first one to say goodnight and head to his own room. After that, everyone else clears out in less than half an hour. Except for Chris, who picked up a guitar after he finished his chili. Chris is actually a damn good player who can sing, too. His voice is a little rough, but in a sexy, country kind of way.

Steve is just trying to figure out how to politely kick Chris out so he can get some sleep when Chris puts down the guitar and says, "You wanna fuck me?"

Jesus Christ. Is the Pope Catholic?

By the time Steve manages to get out a "Yeah," Chris has stood up and is coming toward him and with a look on his face that says he knows Steve isn't going to say no. He rolls his hips and keeps rolling them right up against Steve.

"Come on," Steve says into Chris's mouth. "My room's this way."

Chris doesn't stop kissing him, and he brings his hands down to Steve's ass to pull their hips firmly together. His grip is strong enough that Steve can't move away, but he finally breaks his mouth away from Chris's.

"It has a bed."

Chris sucks kisses into Steve's neck. He's going to have bruises tomorrow, but he doesn't care. Chris can bruise him all he wants if the sex is even half as hot as the making out.

Steve realizes he's not going to get Chris to stop so they can walk to the bedroom like normal people, so he just starts walking them backwards. It's his house; he knows it well enough to get them across the hall. Chris is quite the distraction, though, and Steve bangs one shoulder on the doorjamb out of the music room and the other on the one on the way into his bedroom.

Chris does notice they've moved into the bedroom, because he shoves Steve back onto the bed. He pulls a condom and lube out of his pockets and tosses them after Steve onto the bed.

Steve leans back on his elbows and watches Chris strip. The guy's built for a pretty boy. Steve's hands itch to range over that tanned chest, but he just sits there and watches Chris slowly take off the rest of his clothes.

Chris pulls Steve up and takes his place on the bed. "Your turn," he says.

Steve doesn't have Chris's grace, so he doesn't even try for it, just strips himself as fast as he can. By the time he's naked, Chris is already sliding one finger into himself. Steve's disappointed; he wanted to do that.

"You came prepared," Steve says as he takes the lube from the bed beside Chris and squeezes some onto his own fingers.

"I was hoping," Chris says, and his finger presses a little deeper.

"Let me," Steve says.

Chris leans back and moves his hand away, letting Steve take over. "My ex," he says, as Steve pushes two fingers into him, "didn't like to do this."

Steve twists his fingers until he finds the place that makes Chris's breath catch in his throat. "That the same guy who liked to smoke during?"

"Uh-huh." Chris grips handfuls of Steve's sheets. Steve keeps his fingers there, and Chris pushes up into it, demanding more with every movement of his body.

"Doesn't sound like a very good guy." Steve slides his other hand across Chris's chest to his nipple.

"We-" Chris can't quite get the air to say it. "We gonna talk about him all night?"

"No." Steve twists his fingers. He finally leans over and kisses Chris. "No," he says again against Chris's lips.

Chris kisses back and loops his arms around Steve's neck, and then he twists, pulls himself up, and pushes Steve back onto the bed, dislodging Steve's fingers in the process. Not that he minds too much if this is going where he thinks it's going. Sure enough, Chris climbs onto him and straddles him while he tears the condom wrapper and rolls the condom down Steve's length.

"Wanna ride you," Chris says, and there's nothing of a question and something of an order about it.

So Steve just lies back and lets Chris do what he wants. And what Chris wants, clearly, is to slide down onto Steve's cock with no more preliminaries. Not that Steve minds that either. Chris is tight around him, and his hands are warm on Steve's chest where he's bracing himself to get the leverage to move.

Steve trails the fingers of one hand over Chris's lips, dipping in for just a moment, then down his neck and over to his nipples.

Chris arches his back to push his chest into Steve's touch. "Harder."

So Steve both pushes up into Chris's thrusts and pinches the small bud of Chris's nipple.

Chris makes this little whimpering sound and slams down. Steve tightens his pinch and lets go, and that gets the whimper again. God, Steve wants to make him do that again and again and again.

Steve pushes himself up on his elbows and then uses his hands to push himself all the way up so he's sitting and Chris is straddling his lap. He puts his arms around Chris, pressing their chests together and gripping at Chris's back.

"God," Chris groans. "This is."

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He wraps one hand around the back of Chris's head and holds him there for a kiss he's too distracted to make anything other than sloppy. They're both trying to breathe and kiss and fuck at the same time, and their mouths slide together and over cheeks and chins and Steve gets one hand between them and wraps it around Chris's cock.

Chris comes with this sound that's half a moan and half a wail, and then he doesn't even move away, just leans into Steve and lets Steve move him until the pressure and the friction and the feel of Chris's body against his make him come.

Steve pulls out after a moment, strips off the condom, and lets Chris down easy onto the bed. He keeps his hand on Chris's side, stroking up and down, and then he pushes himself up and takes the condom into the bathroom where he tosses it in the trash and turns on the water. He's still waiting for it to warm up when Chris wanders in and stands next to him at the sink.

Steve's the kind of guy who believes in treating his lovers right, even if he's not sure he's going to see them again, so he loops one arm around Chris's waist.

"Okay?" he asks.

Chris meets his gaze in the mirror, and there's this smug and still kind of hazy look on his face. "Oh yeah," he says, and then Steve does his best to match Chris's smugness with his own look in the mirror, which makes Chris laugh and bump his shoulder against Steve's.

"You don't have to go," Steve says when they're both clean and back in Steve's bedroom and Chris is looking around for his clothes. Steve gestures at the bed. "You can stay. Or there's a couch in the music room and one downstairs."

Chris hesitates for a moment, boxers in one hand and shirt in the other.

"I'll make you pancakes in the morning," Steve offers, hoping to sway Chris.

Chris slowly lets his clothes fall back to the floor. "Okay," he says, and he goes back to Steve's bed.

Steve lets Chris get settled in before he turns out the light and joins him. Chris seems like he might be the kind of guy who doesn't cuddle, but he hasn't pulled away from any of Steve's touches so far, so Steve scoots up next to him and carefully drapes one arm across Chris's body. "This okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Chris says, and he sounds kind of surprised but not unhappy or mad.

Steve guesses the ex didn't do this either. He doesn't hold too tight, not anywhere near as tight as he wants, just enough for him and Chris to feel each other.

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he and Chris are pressed up close together, and Steve smiles into Chris's hair before he pulls away and gets up.

He has the kitchen mostly cleaned up, trash and recycling taken out and dishwasher running, by the time Chris wanders down the stairs.

"Coffee?" Chris asks in a half awake mumble.

Steve pours him a cup and gathers up ingredients for pancakes. Chris hops up on a counter and drinks his coffee while Steve cooks. He looks like he belongs there.

"We should write together sometime," Chris says just as Steve pours the first pancake's worth of batter into the pan. "Music," he clarifies.

"Yeah," Steve says, "that'd be cool."

***

He doesn't hear from Chris for a couple of weeks. He gave Chris his number, but Chris didn't give Steve his, so Steve just kind of gets on with his life. For a guy he only met twice, he misses Chris kind of a lot.

But Chris finally calls, and Steve invites him to bring his guitar over and jam. It doesn't quite go how he planned, because the moment he lets Chris in, Chris puts his guitar down on the floor and wraps his arms around Steve's neck.

Steve kisses back, and then says, "I thought we were going to write."

"We are," Chris says, "but first you're going to blow me." He puts his hands on Steve's shoulders and pushes down.

"Whoa," Steve protests. "I don't live alone."

Chris doesn't stop pushing. "Your roommates home?"

"Roommate. Just one. He's out, but--"

"So stop complaining and suck me off." Chris tucks one hand around the back of Steve's neck and kisses him. It's very persuasive, and when Chris's lips leave his and Chris pushes down, Steve goes with it and sucks him off right there in the entryway. Chris's cock feels amazing in his mouth, thick and warm. Chris jerks him off while he licks every last drop of his own come out of Steve's mouth. And then Chris licks Steve's come off his hand, zips up his jeans, and picks up his guitar.

"We going upstairs, or writing down here?" he asks.

Steve is still kind of gasping from his orgasm. "Uh, upstairs," he manages to say. He leans back against the wall and tries to remember what it is he needs to do to get his pants back on.

"You coming?" Chris asks from halfway up the stairs.

"Yeah," Steve gets out. He stumbles half a step away from the wall; manages to get his jeans pulled up, zipped, and buttoned; follows Chris up the stairs.

They write a song in a couple of hours. It's a good song, and easy to write. Steve can't believe it only took them those few hours.

When they're done, and Chris puts his guitar back in its case, Steve reaches out and grabs his hand. "You wanna stay?" he asks.

"I gotta get going," Chris says.

Steve's disappointed. Aside from the sex, which is amazing, he really likes Chris. He tries not to let his disappointment show, though, and just walks Chris down the stairs to the door. But before he can open the door, Chris stops and tangles his hand in the hair at the back of Steve's neck. His lips cover Steve's, and Steve opens to him without thinking. It's the hottest kiss Steve's ever received, and he wants to hold Chris there forever, which is when he figures out he might be in over his head here.

***

They're working on a song, and they're stuck. They can't get the lyric right. They've been drinking, but not too much, and Steve's been taking smoke breaks, and it doesn't matter. It's just not working.

Steve's ready to give up. He takes his guitar off, and it's his guitar, so he puts it down carefully, but if it were anything but his guitar he would be throwing it.

Chris puts his guitar down too, and he leans across the couch to kiss Steve.

"We'll get it," Chris says. And maybe they will, but Steve doesn't really care about it with Chris moving over to straddle his lap. And then Chris is unbuttoning Steve's shirt, and kissing down every inch of bared skin. He keeps going when he gets to Steve's pants, and his mouth is warm and wet around Steve's cock.

"Hey." Steve puts his hand on Chris's cheek. Chris stops and lets Steve rearrange them so they're stretched out together on the couch. Steve doesn't even touch Chris's shirt, just gets his jeans open and down far enough that he can take Chris into his mouth.

They haven't done this before, and Steve thinks maybe it's not the best idea; it's damn hard to concentrate on sucking Chris with Chris sucking him. He manages somehow, though, and gets to come into Chris's mouth and make Chris come into his.

Afterwards Steve reaches for his cigarettes and Chris reaches for a pen, and he finishes the lyric like that, pants still open and cock still wet with Steve's spit.

***

Steve invites Chris out a couple of times, takes him on dates to the movies and his favorite taco wagon and this bar with an awesome open mike night. They have sex every time, and it's so good Steve never wants to stop.

"You don't have to take me out every time," Chris says one night. He's lying with his head on Steve's shoulder, and they both know they're just catching a breath before they go for a second round. He turns his head and sucks at Steve's skin. "I'd come over just for this."

And it's nice to know, but. "I like going out with you," Steve says, and he doesn't tell Chris how much.

He doesn't ask about Chris's ex, either, although he gets some ideas about what their relationship was like, and he doesn't like what he guesses.

"I want you to fuck me," he says one night when he cooks so they just have to stumble up the stairs to his bedroom, and Chris jerks away from him.

"I never-" Chris says. "He didn't-"

Steve's heart breaks and swells all at the same time, and he puts his hands on either side of Chris's face, smoothing his thumbs over Chris's cheekbones. "I don't know what your ex did to you," he says, "but he was an asshole."

And it turns out that was exactly the wrong thing to say somehow, because Chris startles, backs away, says, "I can't," without specifying what he can't do, and leaves.

Steve tries to stop him, but Chris just barrels down the stairs and out the door. Steve calls him half an hour later, the next day, every day for a week, then every couple of days for two weeks. Chris never answers and doesn't call him back. Steve even drops by Chris's place a couple of times, but he's either not there or refusing to see Steve, because he doesn't answer Steve's knock.

Steve resorts to telling every one of their mutual friends that he's been trying to get in touch with Chris. Those who know about them ask if they've broken up, and Steve doesn't really know the answer to that. He hopes not, but that hope fades every day Chris doesn't call him back.

He's almost asleep one Saturday night when the phone rings, and he picks it up because he answers every ring of the phone these days.

"I'm not," Chris says. "I have to be- We-"

Steve rubs his hand over his face and says, gently, but teasing a little because desperation hasn't been working on Chris, "You have to start finishing your sentences."

"I'm on TV," Chris says after a moment of silence where Steve hopes Chris isn't about to hang up on him. "I can't be out."

It's not exactly what Steve wants, but he gets what Chris is saying. "I can be discreet," he promises.

Chris is quiet again, and then he asks, "Can I come over?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'll turn on the porch light."

Chris half chuckles and hangs up.

Steve doesn't bother with anything other pajama bottoms - he's hoping to come right back to bed - but he forces himself to go downstairs to wait for Chris. He's afraid that if he stays in bed he'll fall asleep again. He turns on the porch light and slings himself down on the couch until Chris knocks. Then he heaves himself back up and answers the door.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." Chris slips past him without touching, and he starts up the stairs while Steve turns off the light and locks the door.

Chris is down to his boxers when Steve gets up to his room, but he doesn't go farther than that, and he's not exactly looking into Steve's eyes. Steve lets his pajama pants drop to the floor, and then he turns out the light and climbs into bed with Chris.

Chris doesn't ask or move like he wants it, but there's something about his tense presence on the other side of bed that makes Steve scoot up against his back and throw an arm over him. He presses his lips against the back of Chris's neck, and Chris melts back against him.

***

They're at a party, and Steve goes outside to smoke. He's met Jensen a couple of times now, and the guy's cool, even if he does have a tendency to bum cigarettes from other people instead of admitting he smokes and carrying his own pack. They're out on the patio, laughing and smoking, and Chris comes out to join them and puts his arm around Steve. The party's all friends, so Steve automatically turns his head and presses a kiss to Chris's temple.

Chris's arm slides down so it's around Steve's waist, and his hand curves around Steve's hip. "Let's get out of here," he says low into Steve's ear.

Steve leans into Chris, and it's like the whole rest of the party has disappeared and it's just them.

"You're an idiot," Jensen says, breaking the spell, and then he stubs out his cigarette and goes back into the house without clarifying which one of them he means or why.

Steve takes a last drag off his cigarette, and then says, "Yeah."

Chris can barely keep his hands off of Steve in the car - and Steve's stayed sober enough to drive, but Chris is going to kill them both if he keeps it up - and then they're racing up the stairs and Chris barely lets Steve get his pants off, much less his shirt, before he pushes Steve down on the bed, slicks him up, and slides down onto him. Chris hasn't done anything more than just the lube on the condom over Steve's cock, so it's unbelievably tight. So much so that Steve's worry about hurting Chris outstrips his lust.

"Come on," Chris growls when Steve tries to slow him down.

"I don't want to hurt you," Steve manages to say, although it's hard to get the thought out with Chris slowly corkscrewing up and down his cock.

"You're not," Chris gasps, and Steve's not sure about that. Chris rolls them so Steve's on top. "I want to feel it," he says, his voice that same low promise from his invitation to leave the party. "Make me feel it," he says, his voice as close to begging as Steve's ever heard it, and Steve gives in and just fucks him.

Chris curls up against him without hesitation afterwards, and Steve sleeps so well with him there.

In the morning, he wakes up with the answer to a puzzle he didn't even know he was putting together. Chris was _jealous_. Steve lets himself enjoy the comfort of lying in bed with Chris for a while, but eventually he has to pee, and he's actually awake, so he gets dressed and goes downstairs to make breakfast.

He's flipping pancakes when he hears Chris's footsteps. He walks out to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, and Chris has his boots on and looks guilty.

"I should," he says, with a wave at the door, and no way is Steve letting him go now.

Steve pushes him up against the wall and kisses him. Chris starts out stiff, but as Steve lets his lips and tongue play against his, he relaxes into the kiss until he's the one gripping Steve's shirt when Steve pulls away.

"You don't have anything to be jealous of," Steve tells him. "Not ever." He presses his lips against Chris's, his hand coming up to brush against the heat of the blush spreading across Chris's cheek. His other hand slides down to take Chris's. "Kick off your boots and come into the kitchen," he says. "I'm making you pancakes."

***

The thing is, Chris likes to get fucked, but he's always topping from the bottom. Steve wants to see him lose control, wants to be the one to make him lose control, both because he wants to see it and because he loves Chris, even if he hasn't told Chris yet, and he wants to give this to Chris. He has an idea about it. Since that first time, except for a few times when Chris was in too much of a hurry, Steve has always been the one to slick Chris up, and if Chris likes getting fucked, he loves being finger fucked. It's the closest Steve ever sees him to giving it up and letting Steve take over.

He invites Chris over for dinner on a Friday night when Frank's gone for the weekend. He's been teaching Chris the basics of cooking ever since they went to Chris's once and he got a look at what Chris's kitchen cabinets held, so they make dinner together and clean up together, and Steve wants to do this every night for the rest of his life. They're talking and laughing and trading soft touches the whole time, and Chris doesn't look too surprised when Steve says, "Come to bed," even though it's only just after eight.

They're still laughing and talking and touching as Steve lays Chris out on the bed.

"Come on," Chris says, reaching out for Steve.

Steve pushes his hands back down onto the bed. "Not yet," he says. He leans over Chris and sucks at the jut of his hipbone the way he knows Chris likes it. "Trust me." He skims back up Chris's body and kisses him. They get lost there, trading breath and control of the kiss, until Steve remembers what he wants to do and reaches out to grab the lube off the nightstand.

"You plannin' something?" Chris asks when Steve determinedly kisses his way back down Chris's body.

Steve looks up the length of him, skin over muscle and all of it his to touch, and says, "Maybe." He bends down and takes Chris's cock into his mouth, making Chris hiss and arch instead of speak. He pulls off after a moment, and Chris makes an inarticulate noise of protest.

"I was enjoying that," he says.

"You'll enjoy this too," Steve promises. He pushes a first slick finger into Chris, and watches Chris's lips curve into a smile.

The second finger is just as easy. The third is a push, and Steve keeps his fingers there, just brushing against Chris's prostate, and moves up to kiss Chris. Chris starts to twist and move against Steve's fingers.

"Come on," he growls. "Fuck me." He arches up into Steve's hand and his kiss. "Fuck me."

Steve could do it, could just fuck him, and it would be good, but he wants this too much. So he strokes his free hand over Chris's cheek and pushes a fourth finger into him. Chris goes completely still, and his eyes widen.

"Steve," he says, and his voice shakes.

Steve thinks Chris probably won't say anything if this becomes too much for him, so he's watching him carefully.

"It's okay, baby," he says, and he doesn't move, just lets his fingers rest there in the heat of Chris. "You can do this." He runs his free hand up into Chris's hair and bends over to press his lips to Chris's forehead, nose, mouth. "I got you."

Chris's eyelids flutter shut, and he barely murmurs, "Steve," his voice raw.

"That's right," Steve murmurs back at him. He runs his hand through Chris's hair again and again. "I'm gonna take care of you." He brushes his lips against Chris's and moves the hand inside of Chris. "Just let me."

Chris nods jerkily, and he relaxes a little and moves against Steve's hand, tentative at first, and then more surely, until he's arching up into it and he's nothing like silent anymore, but the sounds he's making don't contain words. It's all whines and moans and then there's an upswing in desperation and Steve puts his hand on Chris's stomach to hold him down.

"Just a little more," he says, sings almost. "Just a little more, I know you can take it." He keeps moving the hand on Chris's stomach, creating a counterpoint to what he's doing, giving Chris a second sensation to feel, and he tucks his thumb in with the other four fingers, and then his whole hand is inside Chris and he glimpses the sheen of tears in Chris's eyes before Chris closes them and says, "Please."

It's not that Chris has never said please before in bed, but it's never been like this, because this time Chris really is out of control and begging.

"Okay, baby, okay," Steve singsongs, and he finds Chris's prostate and makes sure to touch and brush against it with every movement. "I got you." He kisses Chris, pushing his tongue deep and drinking in the taste of Chris. "I got you, come on," he says, urging Chris on. "Come on, baby."

Chris comes with a wail, and Steve didn't even have to touch his cock to make it happen.

"God," Steve says, and it's only now that he realizes how hard he is, how close he is to coming. It takes only two rough pulls on his cock before his come is spilling out to mix with Chris's.

He wants to just collapse, but Chris is totally out of it, so Steve holds it together. He pulls his hand carefully out of Chris, a litany of "so good, baby, so good for me" falling from his lips. Chris turns onto his side, back to Steve, and curls into himself. Steve grabs for a t-shirt from the floor. It already has spaghetti sauce stains on it, so he doesn't mind using it to wipe the majority of come and lube off of them. They really need a shower, but Chris is curled in pretty tight, so this'll do. Steve drops the shirt back onto the floor and curves himself around Chris, chest to Chris's back, knees folding in behind Chris's. When he drapes his arm around Chris, Chris grips onto it with both hands.

Steve sings, because he's not entirely sure what else to do. Sure, he wanted Chris to lose it, but he wasn't quite expecting this. Chris relaxes bit by bit, and after three love songs, he's pressing back against Steve and his hands on Steve's arm are holding not gripping.

"Okay?" Steve asks into Chris's hair.

Chris nods, the movement brushing his hair over Steve's lips. After another couple of moments of silence, Chris asks, "Are you going to do that again?" and his voice sounds like he's been crying.

Steve gets the sense that this is a make or break question, that if he gives the wrong answer, Chris will leave and not come back this time. No isn't what he wants to say, and yes doesn't leave Chris with any choices. "Only if you want me to," he says.

"Not," Chris says, and then there's a pause and he says, "not for a while, okay?"

"Whatever you want," Steve promises. He kisses the back of Chris's neck. "Anything you want." He tucks Chris just a little more snugly against him. "You up for a shower?"

"Yeah," Chris agrees.

Steve washes them both quickly, because Chris is still shaky, and Steve mostly wants to get them just clean enough to go back to bed.

"Wait," Steve says before Chris can get back in bed. "Let me change the sheets." He leaves Chris propped against the wall while he strips the bed and remakes it with clean sheets. He's never been so glad that he keeps a spare set in his room; the linen closet is just a few steps down the hall, but he doesn't want to leave Chris for a second.

He pushes Chris down into the bed and says, "Just getting the light," and then he turns out the light and climbs into bed with Chris. "C'mere," he says, and he pulls Chris back against him. Chris usually doesn't seem to mind Steve cuddling him, but this time he actually snuggles back into it and reaches for Steve's arm when it comes around him.

Steve lies awake for a long time, until he's more than sure Chris is asleep.

He wakes up in the morning with Chris already awake. Chris has turned so he's facing Steve, and Steve smiles almost helplessly. He reaches out to touch Chris, runs a finger down his nose, strokes a thumb along his cheekbone.

"Morning," he says. He leans forward and brushes his lips against Chris's forehead. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" Chris echoes, his voice still rusty from last night.

"Anything you want," Steve says.

"Omelet?" Chris asks, his voice hopeful but unsure.

"Yeah," Steve says. He gets out of bed, brushes his teeth, gets dressed. He bends over to kiss Chris's forehead again. "Come down when you're ready, or I'll bring it up to you."

He's not sure if leaving Chris alone is the right thing to do. Chris still seems a little shaky. But, if nothing else, Steve needs a moment to himself. He uses the time it takes to smoke and start breakfast to just breathe and be okay with how much he loves Chris and the way Chris let him just take him apart. Because he's not fooling himself; if Chris hadn't let him, hadn't given in to what Steve was doing and been okay with it, Steve never would have done it.

He has piles of chopped ham, green onions, and bell pepper lined up on the counter when Chris comes down the stairs. Chris is wearing his own jeans, but the button-down he's wearing with them is Steve's. Steve's heart swells, and he almost tells Chris right then that he loves him.

"Hey." Chris smiles and comes across the kitchen to lean against Steve, his arm around Steve's waist and his whole weight leaning into Steve's back.

"Hey." Steve turns his head and kisses Chris's cheek. "Breakfast in a couple of minutes."

"Okay." But Chris doesn't move away, just moves with Steve while he cooks.

Steve makes one large omelet for them to split so he doesn't have to try to convince Chris to sit down and eat while he makes a second one. At the table, Chris pulls a chair up close to Steve and sits almost in his lap.

Steve decides it's not worth losing contact and leaves the dishes on the table when they're done. "Come on," he says, and he takes Chris up to the music room and puts a guitar in his lap.

***

When he finally tells Chris, they're working on a song, half facing each other on the couch in the music room and trying to find the right lyric.

"I love you," Steve says.

Chris looks at him like he's crazy. "That doesn't fit."

"Not the song, you idiot," Steve tells him, half exasperated and half laughing.

He can see when Chris gets it, because Chris kind of softens, and he pulls his guitar off over his head and puts it on the floor. "You'd better put that guitar down," he warns, and when Steve does, Chris practically tackles him. They don't even have sex, just make out for a while before Chris sits up to straddle Steve's hips and finish the lyric.

***

When Chris tells him, he's off shooting a movie on location. They talk on the phone every day, but it's not the same, and Steve misses Chris like a piece of his heart is gone. Some days they barely even have time to say hello, but this isn't one of those. Tonight they have time to talk, and Steve's lying down in bed, ready to drift off with Chris's voice in his ear.

There's a minute where Chris doesn't say anything, and then he says, his voice almost too soft to be heard, "I love you," and Steve's heart turns over in his chest.

"Baby," he says, his voice soft too. "I love you too. I miss you."

"Yeah," Chris says. "I'll be home soon."

***

They have some good years. Chris has a steady string of acting jobs, and they get gigs regularly, write music together, go on tour in Europe. Frank gets married and Steve moves into a place by himself. He and Chris talk every day, even if Chris is on location, and they spend most nights together when they're in the same place.

And then they have a couple of bad ones. Chris's record contract is for Christian Kane not the band, Steve starts recording his own solo albums too, Chris moves mostly to Nashville and keeps being seen out and about with this Whitney girl.

Steve's apartment floods and then the girl upstairs gets a dog that won't shut up, and it's like every fucking bad thing all at once, and he doesn't even know what to do.

"Come stay with me," Jensen offers. "I've got the room, you can stay while you figure out what to do."

So they pack up everything he's been able to salvage or replace, toss it into his car and Jensen's truck, and he moves into Jensen's spare room. He only calls Chris two days later, and he says, "I got the hell out of that place."

"Good," Chris says.

"Yeah," and somehow it helps to have Chris be on his side about this. "I'm staying with Jensen," Steve says, and he doesn't think about how that's going to sound to Chris until he's met with a deep silence.

"You don't have anything to be jealous of," Steve says. "Not ever," and he doesn't realize that he might as well have added, "I do," until there's the click of Chris hanging up on him.

***

Steve's not sure they're going to last. There was a time when all he wanted out of life was to play music with Chris and he had that. He wants it again. He wants it forever. He's just not sure he's going to get it.

And then Chris does a pilot that gets picked up, and he's filming and living in LA again. In some ways, it's just like it always was, the two of them playing music and writing songs and having sex at every opportunity, and their lives knit back together.

Chris loves his new show, loves his co-stars, keeps bringing in old friends to play the bad guys. Steve teases him about knowing every badass in the business, and Chris grins back and says, "Only the ones who do TV."

Chris starts playing poker with the rest of the cast, and after a while, he invites Steve to come too. Steve's met them, of course, because Chris cooks for them sometimes and Steve's been to see the set. But still, poker night's a different thing, and Steve's not entirely sure exactly what Chris has told them about him.

But he goes, and it's fun, and they include him, and he starts going every week, except for a time or two when there are things that were already on his calendar.

And then, one night, Chris insists on taking a football out to play catch. It's not the first time, but this time, Chris throws too hard and his boots are too slick, and Steve's moving before he even consciously registers Chris's feet sliding out from under him.

"Chris!" Steve gets there first, and he falls down onto his knees at Chris's side. "Chris," he says, and he hears the panic in his own voice. "Baby." Chris's cheek and one of his hands are scraped up. Steve cups his hand over Chris's unmarked cheek. "Talk to me, baby."

Chris groans and pushes himself up until he's sitting on the asphalt. "Shit," he groans.

Steve helps him up, and they go back in the house and into the downstairs bathroom where Chris sits on the counter next to the sink. Tim produces a first aid kit, and Steve turns on the cold water and lets it run onto a washcloth to clean Chris's cheek. His hands are shaking, and when Beth comes in and says, "I got it," he lets her take over.

"Devlin's gonna kill you," Aldis says from the doorway.

"The hell with Devlin," Steve says, "I'm gonna kill you."

Chris looks up at him, and Steve must look a hell of a lot more freaked out than he realizes, because Chris reaches out with his uninjured hand and pulls Steve to him. Steve rests his forehead against Chris's shoulder, and Chris puts his arm around him.

"I'm fine, baby," Chris says, and he so rarely uses endearments with Steve that now Steve knows he's totally freaked out. And whatever Chris has or hasn't told his co-stars, they sure as hell know now.

Steve pointedly looks up at the bandage on Chris's cheek.

"I'll be fine," Chris says, and Beth must be done with his hand too, because it comes up around Steve to join the other one, and then Beth must leave because the door closes. "I'll be fine," Chris promises, and he holds Steve close and doesn't even make fun of him for clinging.

But there's a limit to Chris's patience, and he says, "Let's get out of here," not much later.

Gina has a pair of shots for them, and Tim calls them a cab. They go back to Chris's place, and Steve pushes Chris down into bed and lies down with his head over Chris's heart.

It's stupid, because it's not like Chris has never been hurt before and Steve knows he heals insanely fast, but this is totally freaking Steve out. Maybe it's because he feels like he just got Chris back.

"Are you crying?" Chris asks.

"Shut the fuck up," Steve manages to say, with his voice mostly steady.

Chris actually does, and he strokes Steve's hair and just lets him be. "I love you," he says when Steve's close to sleep. Steve pushes himself up Chris's body, smoothes Chris's hair out of the way, and kisses him as deeply as he can without hurting Chris's cheek.

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

***

The day after Chris wins so much money on the Steelers that he won't admit to Steve how much he bet, Steve's phone rings just after nine in the morning. Steve really doesn't want to wake up enough to talk on the phone, but the ringtone tells him it's Chris.

"We got a second season," Chris tells him, his voice happy and warm.

Steve pushes himself up to sit against the headboard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Chris says, and now he laughs. "The press thing this morning wasn't a press thing. Devlin faked us out."

Steve laughs too. "Congratulations," he says. "Really, it's awesome." And it is. Awesome for Chris's career, and Steve's in favor of anything that keeps Chris with him in LA.

"Yeah," Chris says, and then he's the kind of quiet that Steve knows means he's about to say something important. "I don't care about being on TV," is what he eventually says, and that's a lie.

"You love being on TV," Steve says.

"I want to walk down red carpets with you," Chris says, and his voice is quiet like it always is when he's saying things that matter. "I want the captions on the photos to say ' _Leverage_ 's Christian Kane and his husband, musician Steve Carlson, on the red carpet.'"

Steve can't breathe for a moment, and then he says, "You're seriously proposing to me over the phone?"

"Will you?" Chris asks, and he sounds like he actually doesn't know the answer.

"Chris," Steve says, "I would've married you the night we wrote 'The Chase.'"

Chris huffs out a laugh, and then he's quiet for a moment again. "You don't have anything to be jealous of," he says, and it's raw, like this is harder to say than the proposal. "Not ever."

"Baby." Steve tips his head back to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. "I love you."

***

The day after the first premiere they attend after the wedding, Steve gets up before Chris. He finds a picture with a caption, prints it out, and hangs it up on the fridge for Chris to find when he wakes up.


End file.
